"We must destroy it."

"Why?" Dariel asked.

"Because it is evil." She leaned near him, brushing his shoulder, and spoke loud enough for only him to hear. "You believe it's so wonderful because of the power within it. But it's what makes the power in it that is so horrible. Ships like this one… they run on souls, Dariel. The essence of children. Quota children. That's what's trapped within them. They burn souls. Think of a child sent into slavery. Think of that child tossed into the furnace of this boat, firing it from the inside. That's what this is. I know it's enticing. Evil often is." She paused and then said, "You might want to slow."

He had been watching her profile as she looked forward. He swung his head around and eased back. As the prow dropped and some of the exhilaration of speed left him, he saw what had prompted her. For some time the long shadow of an island to the east had crept closer as they sped along it toward the south. Now, from an inlet of the island, came a blaze of light and motion. It must have had a deep anchorage, for a league brig nestled close to the shore, lit up with blazing pitch lanterns. Small vessels ferried supplies and people ashore. Men worked on the docks, unloading supplies. Even as they watched, new lights flared in windows of buildings all along the shore. The league, it appeared, was taking the place over.

"What island is this?" Dariel asked.

"Lithram Len," Skylene said. "They must have just found it."

"Where the soul catcher is?"

She nodded. "Go slowly and pull us back nearer the mainland coast. We should not be seen, especially now. The People need to know the league has found the island."

Dariel sailed as she instructed. He managed to cut behind a slim barrier reef that hid them for some time. Beyond it, he increased speed as the glow receded behind them. It was only then, when he thought about something other than piloting the boat, that he chewed over what he had just seen. The league were on Lithram Len. The soul catcher was on Lithram Len. No, he had never seen the thing himself, but he had seen Devoth shake off one death-pull an arrow from his heart and live on. That was enough to make him believe in the device.

If they find the soul catcher chamber itself, he thought, and learn how to use it…

Dariel drew up, his face glazed by a thought so sudden that he forgot to see through his eyes or animate his features for a moment. The vessel, sensing the waning of his focus, lost forward momentum. The bow drooped and the stern rose and the rocking of the waves took them in its rhythm.

"What is it?" Skylene asked.

"Wait a minute," Dariel managed to say. But that was as far as he got. He had to think through the idea that had just gripped him. It was a mad idea. Dangerous. An idea that would have him dealing with forces he did not yet understand. Neither Mor nor the elders had asked it of him, and if he proposed it, he would be asking the crew-these friends so new to him-to risk their lives as well. He should just drive his energy down into the boat and feel it surge forward, continue this escape, find a way to get the others ashore, and then sail away without them. Go home.

Tunnel bounded up from belowdecks. "Why have we stopped?"

Why even think what you're thinking? Dariel asked himself. When did their fight become yours? He tightened his grip on the wheel and intended to answer Tunnel by pushing the boat back into motion. Though he thought that, his will was not behind it. The boat continued to rock, dead in the water. Others gathered near, talking among themselves as they approached, and then joining the hush of those waiting for him.

It had been so long since he had thought of a venture like this. He could not help but think of Val. What had he said, one of the last things he told Dariel before sacrificing himself to destroy the league platforms? "I've been waiting to understand how best to say good-bye to the world. Now I've found it." That's exactly it. Dariel felt something similar now. Not that he needed to say good-bye. It was not death he felt near him, but life. Real life! A purpose that began here and might lead who knows where?

"What if…," he began. "What if we don't take this boat to Sumerled? Not just yet, I mean. What if instead we go to Lithram Len? What if we destroy the soul catcher ourselves, even if we have to fight the league to do it?"

"Dariel," Skylene said, "there are only ten of us."

"A perfect number. Who would expect it? We'll catch them unaware."

"You want war with the league," a voice-he could not pinpoint whose-said.

"Haven't you known that was happening all along?" Dariel asked. "They've never done anything but make war on us, on both sides of the ocean-we've just been too dull to see it. War with the league! That's exactly what I want. I fought them before, but I didn't finish it." With this acknowledgment, he felt a sudden need to laugh. Mirth spilled out of him, unexpected, all consuming, wonderful. "Let's strike them first." That seemed such a wonderful notion, so very right. It felt like the challenge he had been waiting for. It was business unfinished, and, he was sure, it was the start of the path to his fate. He had never, ever, felt that so clearly.

"What do you think? Let's fight them, starting here and now. We'll find a way. I didn't plan this, but we've seen what we've seen. We have to do something about it."

The crew remained quiet, all of them looking at one another, considering. Dariel could not read them. Their altered, tattooed, and adorned faces seemed as expressionless as he had ever seen them. Even Skylene gave him nothing. Tunnel did, though.

He slapped one of his thick arms down on Dariel's shoulders. Pointing at Skylene, he said, "What did I tell you? Rhuin Fa. That's what Tunnel said. Dariel Rhuin Fa!"

C HAPTER

Corinn would have to reach all the way around the curve of the world and touch a mind that did not expect it, but this should be within her powers. Dream travel. She had witnessed it before. She knew it could be done. Lying in bed beside Hanish Mein, she had listened as he spoke across great distances-even through the barrier between life and death-with his ancestors. The Tunishnevre had been a spiteful coven of the undead, with their own source of power, one that came from the curse that had denied them true death. And that curse had come from Tinhadin. Santoth sorcery. As such, it should be within her power as well. After all, the Tunishnevre, when speaking to Hanish, had demanded he murder her. They had failed. They went to the real afterdeath instead, as did Hanish. Corinn still lived and ruled and had a son. Who, then, was more powerful?

This was but one of the myriad things that she held in her mind after the Numrek uprising and the League of Vessels declaration that a war was coming once more across the Ice Fields. She had, in a surprising way, found a sort of pitching, tumultuous equilibrium. Once she knew that Aaden was safe-and she did know that with enough certainty to put worry for him behind her-she rode the noise and confusion of unfolding events with a calm certainty.

Much of this came from her realization that she had known something like this was coming all along. She had known not to lower her guard. She might have been tempted to forget it briefly, lured by Mena's enthusiasm and Grae's attentions, drawn even to notions of higher nobility in her rule, thinking she might leave the people free of sedation and ways to bring some of Aliver's high ideals to life. As much as she had held power grasped in one hand, she had tried to loosen the clenched fist of her other hand. That had been a mistake. Even the flexion of her fingers in considering the possibilities became an invitation to disaster. That was why she had not been ready and had not seen the treachery standing right behind her for so long. That's why Aaden had nearly died.